Tattooed {Punk Harry Styles}

24

_Month Later_
"Oh, Harry look at that one!" I exclaim, pointing over to the portrait on the wall.


The portrait was a picture of one of my favorite band, The artic monkeys.


"What is it?" Harry asks, scratching the back of his head.


"It's the artic monkeys." I inform him.


"What?" he asks, confused as heck.


"The artic monkeys." I repeat.


"I heard you the first time. I meant what is the artic monkeys when I asked 'what?'." he explains.


"Oh. Well, the artic monkeys is a band. One of my favorites too. That picture up there is a painting of their band symbol." I tell him.


I watch as Harry's face turns from confusion to understanding in a slow manner. He nods as he stares at the painting I was talking about.


"It's a cool painting and all but it has a shit name." He says, crossing his arms and staring it up.


My jaw drops and I immediately turn to the tall tattooed boy.


"No, it's not, Harry."


"Sam, what the fuck kind of name is that?" he inquires.


"Its an original name and I like it." I defend with crossed arms.


"Well then you like shit because that name is absolute shit."


I roll my eyes at Harry and walk away from him, maddened by his choice of words and opinion. He's so inconsiderate, I swear. He can never just say 'Oh, well if you like that, then that's okay'. Instead, he has to tell me my opinion is crap. who does he think he is?


I walk past a couple more portraits and walk to the clothing section of DD's. I must admit, DD's looks like a pretty cheap shop, but its not. I mean, Yes, the clothes don't cost a lot but its not trashy stuff.


"What do you even need from here anyways?" Harry asks, approaching me from behind.


"Clothes and shoes." I tell him.


Harry groans and throws his head back in annoyance as I walk past him to the shoe section.


"Do I have to be here?" he asks.


"No. It was your choice to come with me anyways." I tell him.


"Damn it." he hisses quietly.


I simply ignore his comment and pick out a couple pairs of shoes.


"Is there anything good in here besides the paintings?" Harry inquires.


"I don't know, Harry. Why don't you go find out?"


With that, Harry is off and on his way to the men's shoes department. God, Finally..


After 15 minutes, I had found 6 good pair of new shoes to put in my cart. As I was dropping the shoes into my cart, I hear Harry shouting rude and inappropriate things. I look up and try to find Harry standing somewhere. Seeing a wild bush if curls, I run to it, figuring its Harry.


Once I get to the bush, I see it is Harry and he's standing in front of a man who's also standing in front of his crying son.


-HARRY-


"Really? Your just going to stand there and yell at my 5 year old son for no reason?" The man glares.


"I've got a fucking reason, pal." I tell him, getting in his face.


"Oh, Really? tell me about it?"


"Look, I've got no time for this. I'm already holding back the want to punch you in your fucking face in front of your damn kid. Your just lucky my girlfriend is around here somewhere." I tell the man.




"Oh, so your afraid of your girlfriend, huh?" The man laughs.




I say nothing but turn to go the other way. The man behind me taps my shoulder, trying to get my attention.


"Look here, Buddy.." Just as the man started, I turned around to face him and swung my fist to the man's now red face.


"Don't you fucking touch me." I spit.


The man lays on the floor and holds his bloody nose. The little boy that stood beside him, was now kneeling beside him, sobbing into his chest. Bastard..


"Harry.." a soft voice breathes out.


I groan, realizing that Samantha had just seen what happened.


"Samantha, I.." Before I can even explain, She shakes her head and makes her way to man and his child in front of me.


I look down at the man and her and slowly back away. I don't want to cause more problems.
****
"Samantha, will you let me explain?" I plead as she stomps down the street.


"No. There's nothing to explain, Harry." She says.


By the way she talks and walks, you can tell she is furious. I don't know why. I mean, it's not my fault. It's that damn kid and dad's fault.


"Samantha, it wasn't my fault." I tell her.


She stops walking, causing me to bump into her, and turns around to face me. Her face held fury and disbelief.


"Are you really blaming that poor man and his kid?" She ask, raising an eyebrow.


I simply shrug. She stares at me for a couple seconds before punching me on my side, which surprisingly, though I wouldn't admit, Hurt a bit.


"Your unbelievable." She says before turning and stomping to my car.